Medicinal Values
by sanitys-4-chumps
Summary: We enter Baker Street at a rather unpredictable time..


"Wait..Watson, please," he muttered, through quick breaths and even faster pants, "John!"

Watson would not stop. He had worked many years for this moment, and no amount of pleading and shouting from his partner could hinder this act. Dr. John H. Watson was in need of his medicine, and the sinful acts being committed in 221B Baker Street this fine evening were just what the _Doctor_ ordered, "Holmes! There is no denying that you wish for this as much as I. I have **longed** for this moment, and with your brilliant mind, I know you must have had some suspicion, regardless of your 'thoughts' on the subject itself!" Watson twisted his head to a slight angle, where he then descended onto Holmes' neck, biting down with vigour. Holmes arched his spine while groaning more emphatically than he had previously been. His fingers absentmindedly caressed his companion's waist, with his fingers carelessly pinching at varying intervals.

"You see, Holmes? The sounds you make when I touch you are very different indeed to those you make when we simply _talk_ about the subject of intercourse." Watson sneered at the man below him, whose extensive vocabulary seemed to have disappeared entirely, and had instead been replaced with groans and incomprehensible murmurs, while Watson traced fingers up and down Holmes' inner right thigh.

"Give yourself to me, Holmes! I want you, and only you." he grasped for Holmes' erection, causing the inexperienced man to wrench away, and thus fall to the solid wooden floor, from the table he previously found himself pinned down to. Holmes used the opportunity to scarper to the corner of the room, where he found himself curling in on himself, so as to refuse any form of contact from his voracious friend. Watson sighed deeply while standing from his last position, atop the table. He made for Holmes, with disconcertion featured on his face, "Holmes, old boy. I sincerely apologise for my shameful behaviour. I know not what came over me, and I can only ask your forgiveness on the matter." He held his hand to Holmes, who had lifted his head marginally, in order to watch Watson's every move. A small sigh escaped his lips, as he uncoiled himself and took hold of Watson's hand, allowing himself to be raised to his feet, "Watson, I trust this will _not_ happen a-"

In a brief moment of naked disarray, Holmes found himself constrained to the wall, with Watson's tongue invading his mouth. Eyes deep with shock, Holmes struggled against the force being exerted onto his entire body by the notably taller man. However, struggling swiftly turned to mere nudging, as his eyelids fell shut, and his own tongue entwined with the melody that Watson played.

The floor soon became more preferable to the wall, as both men fell, not altogether gracefully, onto the patterned rug nearest to them, for comfort, if nothing more. Watson bit down firmly on Holmes' neck once more, drifting his tongue gently over the marks he imprinted into his lover's pale skin. Holmes stifled a moan as Watson traced a finger along his raised length, lingering no longer than necessary, "Holmes. Do you want this?"

Holmes' eyes were glazed with what could only be passion, given the circumstance, so his words were uncharacteristically short and to the point, "Nngh, y-yes."

The smile that radiated from Watson's face showed only pure joy and emotion, for he had indeed spent night after night wishing only for Holmes, in the romantic, and certainly erotic sense. Watson moved back somewhat, positioning himself over Holmes' manhood, and with one swift traipse of his tongue, evoked a sharp gasp from the Great Detective, "W-Watson.."

"-Hush, Holmes." Watson responded softly, planting a kiss on Holmes' abdomen, while his hand deviated away from his partner's sight, towards a very different orifice. Holmes near squeaked as Watson's right index finger tenderly touched him from below, "Now, now, Sherlock, we cannot have Mrs. Hudson hearing anything out of the ordinary." he instructed, inserting said finger sufficiently far enough to cause Holmes to squirm and gasp anew, "Don'tcallmeSherlock!"

Hastily, Watson added another finger, his middle, breathing out, "I shall call you whatever I wish." Holmes entire body was flushed, with beads of perspiration rolling from him. He winced as Watson moved slowly inside of him, as no form of lubrication had been applied, much to the Detective's revulsion. Watson remained in his near-menacing composure, with his fingers very much filling the same criteria..but only for a moment longer, as the fingers were removed and promptly replaced with something substantially greater in length and breadth.

"AH-!" Holmes shifted back involuntarily, by the sheer force that Watson had _connected_ them with, "NO! That _hurts_..John! STOP!" exclaimed Holmes, in a futile attempt to coerce the Good Doctor to cease his actions. But rather, Watson continued more intensely, where he seized Holmes' length in his right hand, in an inane attempt to rouse Holmes from his discomfort. And while the Doctor stimulated his lover by hand, and rhythmically moved his hips forwards and backwards inside of him, he earnestly hoped that the man beneath him was alleviated from at least a fraction of the pain he felt.

_How naive I was to think this would work without the correct lubrication. _

Watson found it difficult to think properly, given that he was now so undeniably aroused; the image of his companion reaching completion for him almost pushing him over the proverbial edge.

_Ngh..I pray his pain passes, and turns instead to –ah!- pleasure.._

The hand which Watson used to caress Holmes' manhood appeared to move dexterously now, and, much to the astonishment of the skilled Doctor, he acknowledged the faint but steady motion of Holmes beneath him. His eyes were bleary, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. Watson, though ultimately prepared to reach orgasm in the comfort of his dear friend, took a moment to savour the fact that Holmes was now, finally, allowing himself the ecstasy that could only be found through the carnal act.

Their actions intensified from there, as both men surrendered to their hearts' will, with resistance morphing into decadence, and sweet groans transforming their views of one another. The lights in their residence flooded around the couple, highlighting soft curves, strained muscles, and the fiery pace at which they behaved.

Watson felt himself edging ever closer to that final stage, shown unwittingly to Holmes, as the grip tightened on his length, "Holmes, I .. Oh god, _Sherlock_!"

Upon realising the sensation that Watson had sought completion, Holmes cried out helplessly, as he experienced _La Petite Mort_ for himself.

Some relatively uncomfortable minutes followed, in which neither man spoke of the act that had occurred. It was certainly one thing to go from being good companions and partners, to becoming nothing less than lovers. A most sinful act that, if ever suspected by the public or the Yard Men, would definitely be dealt with by the rope.

A sigh escaped Holmes' lips, as he rose, his tired legs willing him to walk to his own room. However, before entering, he turned slowly to Watson, who sat beside the fire, "Perhaps, next time, you could allow me fair forewarning before straddling me, _dear_?"

Watson's head turned to retort, but the door had already been closed.

_I love you too, Sherlock Holmes._


End file.
